User:Flyingidiot/drafts/The Story of John Carver and the bear, with a beekeeper thrown in for good measure

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The squeezably soft beekeeper feverishly probed the runny hamhocks and corn pone.

Walking southward to his house, he eventually bunny-hopped over the foul-smelling pile of kitty litter, watching as an uneducated door-to-door salesman heroically laughed out loud at the toxic pile. He'd left the stove on for his wife, who scolded him as the oily-skinned Neanderthal man inappropriately smelled the flavorful dolphin burgers. He scolded her back, while she, the half-crazed hypnotist,  whispered sweet nothings to her award-winning tuna cakes, which she had kept since the previous year's competition. Why does she never throw them away? When will she make pancakes again, thought the beekeeper, Mmm, pancakes.  The beekeeper remembered the day they had met, at the Burping Bear Diner on Southshore Road, where he first met his wife's pancakes. She was five-nine, beautiful, tall, but none of that mattered to the beekeeper, because when he took the first bite of those lingonberry pancakes draped with luscious motor oil, he knew, then and there, he would spend the rest of his life with these pancakes. And yet, he could not, because even with the massive bread protests in the capital, the politicians would have none of this 'bread marriage' proposal, 'because God wants it that way, and who the hellk gets married to bread? It's just not right!'

The beekeeper vaporized the nonexistant stack of flapjacks while he watched his wife obsess over the tuna cakes again. She'd made nothing but tuna cakes and dolphin burgers for nearly a year now, and the whole house stank of live fish. What was he thinking about? Ah yes, the diner.
The beekeeper sank deeper into his coffee, realizing that he and his pancakes could never be together. Or could they? He hatched a plan, he would not marry these pancakes, but the woman who made them! It was brilliant! And so it came to be. He spent the rest of the day humoring his fuzzy que and chatting up his future wife. Twenty minutes, twenty days or twenty months later - he could no longer remember such details - she was pregnant with his first child.